


Some Like it Wet

by testosterone_tea



Series: Sex Shop Quartet [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Emotional Porn, First Kiss, Flavored Lube, Inexperienced Sherlock, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, POV John, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/pseuds/testosterone_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is still carrying out his experimentation with sex shop items. Unexpected liaisons take place in certain armchairs and even more unexpected declarations are made afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strawberry Feels Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was meant to be porn and got a bit emotional at the end. I have no idea how that happened, because porn. Oh well, I'll have to deal with that additional complication in later installments. Also, I think I might add more chapters to this one because the experiment isn't quite finished yet. What do you think, readers?

John sat in his armchair, tea at his side as he read the evening newspaper, waiting for Sherlock to get home from wherever he'd gone today. John had texted him earlier inquiring if Sherlock had wanted dinner, but had only got the short _Busy - SH_ response for his troubles.

After the whole thing with the anal beads, they hadn't done anything else, and John wasn't sure where they stood. To his frustration, Sherlock didn't appear to be worried about this at all.

John had resigned himself to having been a part of another one of Sherlock's experiments and left it at that. He tried not to be disappointed, especially since they'd never discussed expectations for any sort of relationship or even an ongoing sexual liaison.

John was just being silly and sentimental again. People were perfectly capable of having sex without having an emotional or romantic connection.

This afternoon had proven that.

He'd gone over to St. Bart's to check with Molly, because maybe Sherlock was in the lab looking at body parts. In the very least, he could check if Sherlock had been in at all.

Upon being asked if Sherlock had been in that day, Molly had turned beetroot red and been reduced to stuttering and mumbling. John had gone and fetched her a cup of coffee, and she had calmed down once he'd returned.

She didn't know where Sherlock had gone, but he had stopped by earlier that day to drop a few things off for Molly. John had no reason to suspect anything, but Molly's full-faced blush had returned.

"John," she'd said, nervously twisting her fingers. "Do you have any idea why Sherlock would have any reason to give away certain items?"

"Um, no?" John had replied, unaware of the true nature of Molly's discomfort.

"Ah, it's better if I show you what he brought me then," Molly had said, shrugging and looking down, not meeting John's eyes. "I don't know what to make of it."

What she'd brought out had John choking on his own cup of coffee.

Sherlock had gifted Molly with the sex toys that John had pointed out were incompatible with male-bodied anatomy. The strap-on, the vibrator and the black dildo were sitting nestled in the bottom of Molly's purse, and once John had seen them, she'd shut it again.

"Why did he give me these?" Molly had asked.

"I think he was trying to be nice," John had stuttered. "Anyway, if you see him again, tell him to text me."

Molly had nodded and gone back to work, ears still pink.

John actually had no idea what Sherlock had been thinking when he gave Molly the unused sex toys or whether he understood how socially awkward it was to give another person a sex toy. Harry had once given John a sex toy as a joke, a little black riding crop that he'd taken to Afghanistan and then lost. It was probably still kicking around the barracks somewhere. But he didn't think Sherlock had been joking when he gave those items to Molly. Sherlock didn't really joke.

It hadn't been an invitation, had it?

John was not jealous. He wasn't.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and John stood up, recognizing them as Sherlock's. He was going to ask Sherlock once and for all what he meant by giving Molly those sex toys and where Sherlock and he stood with the whole sex vs. relationship thing. Sherlock could give a straight answer for once.

Sherlock came into the sitting room, turned, shut the door and locked it. John opened his mouth to start his rant, but Sherlock rapidly advanced on him, crowding John back into his armchair.

"Sherlock–" John started.

Sherlock knocked John's legs apart and went down on his knees between them. John's entire rant went down the drain as his brain went offline. Sherlock looked up from underneath his eyelashes and put his hands on John's knees before running them up and down John's thighs.

John could hardly breathe, and he could feel the blood rushing through him, down and down to collect in his groin. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been turned on this fast. Soon his cock was straining against the zip of his jeans, and Sherlock's eyes, dark and gleaming, were fastened on it. 

Sherlock reached for the button of his jeans, and his fingers trembled as he flicked it open and tugged the zip down. He hooked his thumbs into John's belt loops, and John automatically raised his hips so that Sherlock could drag his jeans and pants down.

His cock was already flushed, dark and red, pointing up towards John's belly. John realized as Sherlock stared at it that Sherlock hadn't actually seen it last time they'd had an encounter of this nature.

John held his breath as Sherlock reached out and ran two fingers up and down his shaft before gripping it tentatively around the base.

"You'll have to tell me if I'm doing this right," Sherlock said, eyes flickering back and forth between John's face and his straining shaft.

"Have you never done this before?" John asked softly.

Sherlock shook his head before releasing John's cock and reaching into his pocket. He drew out a bottle, uncapped it and poured a generous amount of viscous liquid into his cupped palm. John watched transfixed as Sherlock slicked up both palms with lube and then applied it liberally to his cock.

Oh, Sherlock's fingers running up and down his shaft like that was magnificent. John shifted his hips forward in the chair to give Sherlock more room and spread his legs more, hooking his knees over the arms of the chair.

Sherlock's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. Apparently he appreciated the view John was giving him.

He grasped John by the base of his cock, leaned forward hesitantly, wet his lips and then lapped almost daintily at the head of John's cock. John gasped and reached for Sherlock's head, before stopping and clenching his fist on empty air. If Sherlock hadn't done this before, he probably wouldn't appreciate having his head controlled.

To his surprise, Sherlock grasped his hand and placed it on the back of his head, squeezing his wrist gently before releasing it. John curled his fingers through Sherlock's unruly locks and pulled lightly. Sherlock made a low groaning sound in his throat, eyes fluttering as he tipped his head back. His lips parted.

Sherlock looked at him pleadingly, and John pulled on his hair again, more firmly this time, but not hard. Sherlock sighed and let the head of John's slick cock slide past his lips.

John hissed and threw his head back, hardly able to look down, not when Sherlock's face was flushed such a pretty, delicate pink and he had that lush mouth wrapped around his cock. He chanced a look, and Sherlock's eyes gleamed as his cheeks hollowed. There was blessed suction around his cock, and John's groin throbbed as Sherlock bobbed his head slowly up and down.

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock," John swore and stroked the back of Sherlock's head.

Sherlock preened with pleasure at John's reaction, and John felt a flutter in his gut.

"So gorgeous," John murmured.

Sherlock rewarded him by sliding even further down his cock and pumping the lower part of his shaft in tandem with the bobs of his head. How had Sherlock never done this before? He was amazing.

John panted and groaned helplessly, tilting his hips up and barely holding himself back from thrusting into Sherlock's warm, wet mouth.

After a few long, hazy, pleasure-soaked minutes, Sherlock drew back with a pop. John made a small noise of protest in his throat, but Sherlock pumped his erection with a lube slick hand and lowered his head. His nose nudged John's testicles and a moment later, a curious tongue began lapping at his sack.

"Oh!" John gasped, and his fingers tightened in Sherlock's hair involuntarily.

Sherlock took that as encouragement and nuzzled his face between John's legs with enthusiasm, licking and drawing John's balls gently into his mouth to suck softly.

John's thighs trembled, and one of Sherlock's hands came up to stroke the inside of one reassuringly. Without thinking about it, one of John's hands moved to join it, entwining their fingers.

Sherlock raised his head and asked, "Can I?"

John was confused for a moment and asked. "Can you what?"

To his surprise, Sherlock blushed, and his eyes lowered. "You... did it to me... last time." His blush deepened. "It felt... good."

John's brow furrowed for a moment before he realized what Sherlock was talking about. Sherlock wanted to _rim_ him. He remembered the little whimpers and mewls that Sherlock had made when John had touched him there with his mouth and his cock throbbed in renewed lust.

"Yes, that," John babbled. "Do that."

Cheeks still flushed and eyes shy, Sherlock rubbed more lube back behind John's balls and over his entrance. The lube was cool and John gasped as Sherlock's thumb passed over the sensitive skin. A moment later and there was something hot and wet probing against that spot. John's back arched further as he tried to push back and impale himself on Sherlock's tongue.

"Sherlock..." John whispered, and Sherlock's fingers tightened around John's where they were still joined.

Sherlock began lapping in earnest, broad, wet strokes that made John's insides shiver and his gut coil tight with heat.

"Please," he begged, eyes sliding shut with the pleasure of it.

Sherlock's mouth drew away and John whined, wanting his tongue back where it had been. Then, he felt the blunt ends of Sherlock's fingers nudging at the slackened ring of muscle, slick with more lube. John groaned as Sherlock eased one finger inside him.

"Is this okay?" Sherlock asked, voice hushed.

"More than okay," John panted. "Brilliant."

Sherlock pulled his finger out from where it was caressing inside him and reclaimed him with two. John rocked his hips, squirming to try and get more inside him, deeper. Sherlock's fingers probed, pushing inside him again and again.

"Harder," John begged.

Sherlock complied, pumping his fingers in deeper, and a jolt suddenly ran down the length of his spine and tightened low down in his gut. John's hips jerked involuntarily, and Sherlock, noting the reaction, drove his fingers in again at the same angle. Another jolt, more of a throb, worked its way though his system.

"Yes, there," John gasped, writhing.

And then Sherlock's mouth was back on his cock, sliding over his shaft in a rhythm that matched the pull and push of his fingers. John rode the waves of pleasure, his hips jerking up to meet the thrusts of Sherlock's fingers.

"Oh jesus, Sherlock, I'm–"

Sherlock sucked hard on the head of his cock and John whimpered as he hit the crest of his pleasure and plunged over. He felt himself spilling over into Sherlock's mouth and trembled as he came in bursts. Sherlock's fingers refused to release him, and only let him go once he'd finished.

As much as John wanted to sag back down into the armchair, he sat up groggily. Sherlock was still on his knees, and his fingers had come up to touch his mouth where a trickle of ejaculate had escaped. John groaned helplessly and he stumbled forward. It was more of a fall than a lunge as intended, but nonetheless, he ended up straddling Sherlock's lap on the living room floor.

"You glorious, ridiculously amazing human being," he said, grasping Sherlock by the collar of his tight purple shirt.

Then John kissed him.

Sherlock made a small sound against his mouth and melted against him. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's trim waist and kept kissing him, coaxing his mouth open with little nibbles and licks. He could taste his own come on Sherlock's tongue, but it just made him want to delve deeper. Sherlock's arms had come up around his shoulders and were clutching tight.

John kissed him hard and passion-filled, so enthusiastically that he ended up pushing Sherlock back until they both tumbled onto the floor. He covered Sherlock's trembling body with his own, and it was as if Sherlock's kisses were more important than air. He had to have them. They were precious to him.

He pulled back to look Sherlock in the eyes, the tips of their noses brushing.

Sherlock's eyes were dazed and full of wonder.

"John," he said, and his voice cracked.

"You're so wonderful," John said, and kissed his nose, and the corners of his impossible eyes and the side of his mouth. "I wonder sometimes how you can exist and be this amazing."

He stroked Sherlock's hair and Sherlock hid his face in the crook of John's neck. John kissed behind his ear and down the elegant curve of his throat.

"John," Sherlock whispered, and he sounded so shaken that John drew back a little.

The emotion coursing through him was a little intense, he was so full with it. His chest ached and he was fit to burst with every beat of his heart.

"Alright?" John asked, and his throat felt swollen and tight with it.

A tear worked its way out of the corner of Sherlock's eye, and John reached up and wiped it away with his thumb. Sherlock smiled, and it was dazzling.

"You love me," Sherlock said, his voice wavering as if he were about to cry.

"I do," John said and kissed his mouth. "I do."

And he gathered Sherlock close, doubting he would ever be able to let this man go. Many people in this world could have sex without involving emotions, without getting invested. John Watson was not one of those people.

The two of them lay entangled on the living room floor, and the warm, solid feeling of having Sherlock in his arms made John drowsy and contented. For once, Sherlock was laying quietly, head nuzzled underneath John's chin. John stroked his hand over Sherlock's spine and through the curls at the back of his head.

He was a bit stunned at the suddenness of the confession. But once Sherlock had said it, it became obvious to John what he'd been missing about his feelings this entire time.

He loved Sherlock. Obvious, as Sherlock would say.

Sherlock, overcome with emotion, had his body completely entwined with Johns, as if he were trying to be as close to him as possible. John wanted to ask if Sherlock felt the same, but again, obvious.

John's shoulder twinged, and he finally gave into his bodily demands and got up off the floor, pulling Sherlock upright with him.

"Come on then," he said fondly. "Up we get."

He got them both settled back in the armchair, Sherlock somehow fitting in his lap with all his gangly limbs and long, lithe body.

"I didn't mean for all this to happen," Sherlock said, voice subdued.

"What do you mean?" John asked cautiously.

"I didn't think it would happen," Sherlock continued softly. "Why would somebody like you want to be with somebody like me? This was... unexpected. But I'd hoped. Against all odds of this ever happening, I hoped one day you would see..."

John pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

"I do love you," John said. "I didn't expect that either. But all that time ago, when I walked into the lab at Bart's and we chased that mad cab driver... I think I've loved you ever since."

"I didn't think anyone ever would, and I was prepared for that," Sherlock said. "I'm not the type of person others generally fall in love with."

"You're exactly the type of person I would fall in love with," John said, smiling against Sherlock's hair.

They sat in silence for several minutes and then John asked, "So why did you suddenly want to give me a blow job in our living room?"

"It was part of the experiment," Sherlock said brightly, perking up. He dug around in the side of the armchair to extract the bottle. "See?"

"Strawberry flavoured," John noted, turning it over in his hands. "Anything else I should know about this experiment of yours?"

Sherlock grinned promisingly. "It's not even nearly close to being finished."

John's spent anatomy made a valiant effort at rejoining the experiment immediately and Sherlock's eyes gleamed.

This was going to be interesting.


	2. Cool Hand Lube

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's experiment is far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that I accidentally made them all gooey and love declaration-y, now I have to develop their relationship. Sherlock is kind of an emotionally suppressed idiot, so forgive him if he doesn't get it sometimes. Also, forgive me for the corny chapter titles.

Sherlock whirled around the crime scene one last time, words pouring from his mouth in a steady stream of deductions. Lestrade looked on with an exasperated look on his face while Donovan fumed silently by his side.

According to Sherlock, this scene was a five at most and they were wasting his time.

He'd still solved it though, his deductions starting only a second after he'd seen anything.

"How could you have missed this!" Sherlock demanded, waving a hand at a scrape on the windowsill. "Look, they left transfer colour behind right here! What does that tell you?"

Lestrade and Donovan were silent.

Sherlock huffed and threw his arms up in the air. "Call me when you have something worth my time!"

He strode out the door, John at his heels.

The moment that Sherlock was out the door, John grasped him by the collar, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him. Sherlock made a faint gasping sound at the suddenness of the attack, but as soon as John's mouth met his, he melted into it, sighing. John felt Sherlock's fingers curling into the wool of his jumper, pulling them snuggly together. John let go of Sherlock's collar and cupped Sherlock's face gently, tilting his head slightly for a better fit. Sherlock hummed happily against his mouth.

John drew back slightly and whispered against Sherlock's lips, "Brilliant."

"You think so?" Sherlock asked, sounding pleased.

"You know I do, you silly wanker," John said fondly, carding his fingers through Sherlock's chaotic hair. "I always think you're brilliant."

"What about that time you found fingers in the sugar?"

"Most of the time," John amended. "When you are being brilliant, you are the best and most amazing mind I've ever admired. When you are being an idiot, however, you do your best to excel in that as well."

"Never do things by halves, John," Sherlock said, smiling, and John could feel the curve of his mouth against his.

"Never," John agreed and kissed him again.

"Oi, what are you two still doing here?" Lestrade asked, and John pulled back, startled.

"The real question is, what are _you_ doing here?" Sherlock demanded imperiously. "Have you solved the case already?"

"No. But Sherlock, you can't just snog people at crime scenes, it's not decent."

"It was John," Sherlock said in protest. "I was an innocent bystander!"

"You are very rarely innocent of anything," Lestrade said dryly. "Now, off you go you two! If you're going to snog, do it somewhere other than behind police tape."

"I bet you don't say anything about Donovan and Anderson," Sherlock said sulkily.

"They don't snog at crime scenes!"

"That's what you think," Sherlock said with a grin. "Come on, John! Things to do."

John followed him, and Lestrade watched them go. As soon as they rounded the corner, John caught Sherlock's swinging hand in his. Sherlock's stride stuttered and he looked down at their joined hands with wide eyes. He blinked at John silently, as if he didn't understand what John was doing.

"Not good?" John asked softly.

"I-I..." Sherlock fumbled with his words, still looking down at this apparent phenomenon.

Cautiously, Sherlock twined their fingers together, flexing and gripping John's hand as if trying to find the best way to stay connected. It took him a minute or two of fine-tuning before he was satisfied, and John waited patiently before they could continue.

"Am I doing it right?" Sherlock finally asked fretfully.

"Perfectly," John said with a smile.

Sherlock smiled back shyly, and as they resumed walking, Sherlock kept a careful eye on their connection, glancing down every few steps or so to reassure himself it was still working. John felt something tight and aching curl up in his chest at the sight, and it didn't fade. He just wanted to pull Sherlock in close and hold him.

Sherlock was staring at this act in wonder, as if simple affection for him was a miracle. Sherlock always took things for granted, didn't even think of where they came from, but John's adoration was what made Sherlock amazed.

It made John angry and sad to think Sherlock had never thought anyone would feel this way about him.

Overwhelmed, John tugged Sherlock's hand up to his mouth and kissed the back. Sherlock's cheeks tinted pink at the gesture, and John promised himself to kiss Sherlock every day.

The crime scene was close enough that they could walk all the way back to Baker Street. It was a nice day out, and John was happy to stroll along, hand-in-hand with this amazing, ridiculous man. As they got closer to home, Sherlock picked up his pace, eager to be back for some reason. Probably an experiment he remembered or something. John smiled fondly.

By the time they were at the front door, Sherlock was practically vibrating with energy, and he fumbled with the lock, so high strung he could hardly unlock the door. He flung it open and all but dragged John up the stairs.

John laughed and asked, "Sherlock, what are you so worked up about?"

Or, at least, he meant to ask that, but in reality, he got about half of Sherlock's name out before Sherlock had spun him around and forcefully shut the door by slamming John into it. Then, he kicked John's feet further apart and dropped to his knees between them.

For some reason, John hadn't expected Sherlock to continue with the lube experiment.

Sherlock hastily unbuckled John's belt, undid his trousers and shoved them down over his hips so that they tangled around his knees. He nuzzled into John's groin, looking up to meet John's eyes through his eyelashes. John felt something hot and quick coil in his gut, and his half-hard erection twitched against Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock smiled and then kissed John's cock through the thin cotton of his briefs. John's thighs shook slightly, and Sherlock raised his hands up to frame John's hips, stroking his bare legs from there down to his knees. He parted his lips and mouthed softly at the growing mound of John's cock. John grunted and leaned more of his weight against the door, trying ineffectually to spread his legs further.

After a minute or so, Sherlock got impatient with teasing John and dragged his pants down as well, freeing John's erection so that it bobbed invitingly in front of his face. John held his breath as Sherlock pushed up against his cock with his nose and starting at the base of his cock, licked him all the way up to the tip.

John's hips jerked forward involuntarily, and he clenched his hand to try and keep from simply fucking Sherlock's face. Sherlock lapped at the underside of his cock, making small moaning noises as he happily indulged them both. At the same time, John saw him reach into the pocket of his trousers and pull out a little bottle, uncapping it and quickly slicking up both palms.

"Fast learner," John said with a chuckle and a gasp as Sherlock grasped his cock with both hands and twisted in opposite directions, his slippery palms making the friction exquisite as opposed to painful.

John squirmed, gasping as he felt a cool, tingling sensation spread down the length of his cock with the lube. The coolness of it against his heated erection ramped up the sensation, and John whimpered as Sherlock stroked.

"Practice," Sherlock admitted, grasping John at the base of his cock with one hand and swallowing the head with his lush and eager mouth.

"Practice?" John asked, and then whined as Sherlock bobbed his head, and with each pull of his mouth gave a long, hard suck.

For a few moments, Sherlock didn't answer in favour of getting his free hand between John's legs and cupping his balls, rolling them gently in his palm and pressing at the soft patch of skin behind them with his fingertips. His skin prickled and the ache in his balls grew at the renewed tingling brought on by the lube. John groaned again, rolling his hips forward and wishing his knees weren't shackled by his trousers. The urge to simply spread his legs and get himself in a position to get them over Sherlock's shoulders was overwhelming.

"Dildo," Sherlock reminded him with a distinct arch of his brow.

Oh, right. Sherlock had bought an obscene amount of sex toys and had kept most of them, stashing them somewhere private in his room. John hadn't considered the idea that Sherlock was still experimenting with them alone.

Suddenly, all John could picture was Sherlock slicking up a toy with lube and then sucking it into his mouth, pushing it in as far as he could manage.

"Do you pretend it's me?" John gasped and then groaned as Sherlock rubbed the tips of his fingers against his entrance.

"Hmmm," Sherlock hummed around his cock, eyes dark and wanting.

Sherlock's fingers kept massaging his hole, not breaching him, just touching and stroking with varying pressure. The cool, tingling feeling made his entrance quiver and clench. John whined in the back of his throat, trying to urge Sherlock to just finger him already. Sherlock smiled around John's cock and his slick mouth slid down as far as Sherlock could take him, but still only tantalizing him with the promise of more.

"Do you- do you touch yourself when you think of me?" John asked, panting and squirming.

Sherlock drew back far enough that he could say, "I come with your name on my tongue."

"Fuck," John said, head falling back to hit the door.

He could just imagine it, Sherlock all alone in his room, spread out and naked on his bed, stroking and teasing himself like he was teasing John now, all the while with a dildo sliding in and out of his mouth. Did he still like to try anal play? Did he finger himself open and then fuck himself on the same dildo, still slick with his own saliva?

Sherlock's finger finally pressed up and in, sliding inside John without any resistance. John moaned and knocked his head against the door again. Sherlock huffed and then drew back, tugging at John's trousers and pants. Realizing that Sherlock was finally trying to get his pants all the way off, John toed his shoes off, not caring that forcing them off his feet likely made the knot in them too tight to undo later. He helped Sherlock by lifting one foot and then the other so that Sherlock could get the trousers off his limbs.

Once John was free, Sherlock flung his trousers away, then lifted John's left leg over his shoulder. With his legs spread further, Sherlock pulled his finger out of John's arse and drove in again with two. John made an undignified shout and trembled as Sherlock began to fuck him in earnest with both fingers. John tilted his hips and moaned again.

"Harder," he begged. "Oh, fuck Sherlock. Harder!"

Sherlock complied with a triumphant grin, and then sank his mouth back down on John's cock. John shouted again in ecstasy, keeping up a steady stream of increasingly filthy moans and whines. John shifted his hips again and Sherlock's fingers found his sweet spot. It was like a bolt of lightning had gone through him, lighting up all his nerve endings with pleasure.

"That's it, right there," John pleaded.

Sherlock hit that spot twice more, and John felt a burst of molten heat explode in his gut and pump through him in a concussive wave.

"I'm –!" John said and then screamed hoarsely as his muscles contracted uncontrollably. He trembled and shook, pressed against the door and wracked with pleasure.

Sherlock swallowed as best he could, drinking John down and groaning around his mouthful of John's cock. 

Sated and still buzzing from his pleasure-high, John got the leg over Sherlock's shoulder back on the ground, and shakily straightening, pulled Sherlock up so that he could kiss him. Sherlock made a pleased noise and pinned John to the door, snogging him hard, mouth wet and pliant.

John felt the throbbing outline of Sherlock's erection against his stomach and realized that Sherlock was still desperate and turned on.

He pulled away and looked up at Sherlock's face. His pupils were dark and hungry, his pulse was jumping in his throat and his face was flushed with desire.

"Sherlock, have you ever been on the receiving end of a blow job?" John asked in a low voice.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Well, no experiment is complete unless you try it from both ends," John said, smiling. "Come on, I'd like this to take place more horizontally."

He took Sherlock's hand and pulled him along to Sherlock's room. Sherlock followed, eyes wide and eager. As soon as John had shut the door, Sherlock flung himself on the bed, looking up at John with raw, honest desire.

"Gorgeous," John sighed, shucking his jumper and vest and then joined Sherlock on the bed.

Sherlock watched avidly as John unbuttoned his shirt, drawing the edges apart so that he could find the little pebbled nubs and rub at them with his fingertips. Sherlock gasped and arched his back, staring down at his own chest in surprise. John smiled and kissed the center of his chest, and then drew a line down his quivering stomach with his lips.

John quickly divested Sherlock of his trousers and pants, mouthing at Sherlock's hipbone and kissing the soft spot of skin in between his hip and pubic hair. Sherlock gasped and spasmed, and John licked at the skin, lapping and sucking a bright red mark just below the line of where his trousers would cover.

"John," Sherlock said, voice tight and high.

Sherlock's cock was hard and pulsing against his stomach, and a little pool of sticky fluid had leaked onto the curve of his belly. John crawled up the bed between Sherlock's legs, pushing his knees up and apart. Sherlock whimpered and dug his fingers into the sheets.

"John, I'm - " Sherlock tried to get out, snapping his mouth shut as John kissed up the inside of his thigh from knee to groin.

John stopped, mouth still pressed against the soft skin next to the crease of his groin and smiled.

"I'm probably not going to last long," Sherlock said tightly, hips straining upward against nothing.

"It's all fine," John said, stroking Sherlock's hip reassuringly.

Sherlock trembled and his head fell back against the bed. John looked through the pockets of Sherlock's trousers where they'd been discarded on the floor and found the bottle of lube from earlier.

"Cooling lubricant," John read off the label, grinning and shifting. He could still feel residual tingles from where there was still lube spread up between his legs.

"Oh," Sherlock said, looking up again. "I haven't tried it on myself yet. I might not like it, so you could use the lube in the bedside drawer there."

John applied some to the tips of his fingers and leaned over Sherlock. Sherlock tilted his head up to meet John as he leaned in to press his mouth to Sherlock's. Oh, Sherlock's mouth was wet and pliant and opened up beneath him easily when he pressed in with his tongue.

While Sherlock was distracted, John trailed his fingers up Sherlock's chest until he found one pert, pebbled nipple and pinched it, rubbing the cooling lube all over it.

"Oh!" Sherlock's arched up and gasped into John's mouth.

John drew back to look at Sherlock's flushed face. His hair was everywhere, and his eyes were wild and dark. John massaged Sherlock's nipple with his thumb before putting his mouth close to it and blowing on it. Sherlock cried out and his head arched backward against the sheets. John bent forward and took the pink, slightly swollen nipple into his mouth and sucked. His lips tingled where they made contact with the lube.

"Do you like it?" John asked, with another lick to Sherlock's nipple.

Sherlock whimpered and nodded shakily.

"Good," John said, and slicked up one palm with it.

Sherlock didn't look up, but he could evidently hear what John was doing, because he made a soft mewling noise and spread his legs further apart, toes curling into the sheets. John took Sherlock's throbbing erection in hand and pumped slowly, slicking up his entire length. Sherlock moaned brokenly and his hips shuddered upward.

"John, please," Sherlock begged, hands knotted in the sheets.

"Please?" John prompted, slowly sliding his hand up and down over Sherlock's straining shaft, slowly and firmly rubbing his thumb over the head.

"Please, I want..." Sherlock struggled, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I want your mouth on me. Please."

John smiled and kissed his knee. "There?"

"No..." Sherlock groaned. "You know where!"

John leaned down and Sherlock's whimper of anticipation turned to desperation as John licked a hot line underneath Sherlock's navel.

"If you won't tell me, I'll have to put my mouth everywhere," John said, and kissed Sherlock's hipbone and then the crease of his leg. 

Sherlock practically sobbed and cried, "M-my cock. Suck my cock."

"As you wish," John murmured, and then sank his mouth down as far as it would go on Sherlock's cock, applying suction once he couldn't go down anymore.

Sherlock made a tortured sound and shivered violently. John grasped his hips to keep him in place as he bobbed his head up and down Sherlock's length, tonguing the underside of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock cried out raggedly, trying to squirm out of John's grasp.

John smiled. Sherlock looked a debauched wreck, flushed all over and spread out over the sheets wantonly, body given over to pleasure. His sweat-soaked curls were plastered to his forehead in tendrils and his fingers were twined into the bedsheets and holding on desperately.

"John!" Sherlock cried in a high, tight voice.

John bobbed his head again, making his mouth as soft and wet as possible. He dared to release Sherlock's hips and reached one hand down between Sherlock's spread legs, pushing up against his balls with his palm and pressing down on the spot right behind them.

John had to react quickly, moving his head with the jerky movements of Sherlock's hips. For all the sound he'd made earlier, Sherlock came silently, jaw slack and head thrown back against the sheets, hips spasming upward.

John milked him through it, sucking softly and swallowing as much of Sherlock's release as possible. Sherlock suddenly went limp and lax, collapsing on the bed and panting in the aftermath. John crawled up his body and snuggled against Sherlock's side, holding him as he recovered. Eventually, Sherlock came to his senses and pulled John against him as best he could with his muscles still loose and trembling.

"My head is buzzing," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "It's like my head is full of bees."

"Did your vision go white, too?" John asked in amusement.

"I... I don't know," Sherlock said. "I wasn't paying attention at the time. I'll have to see."

"We'll put it on our list," John said, patting his shoulder blade. "Cooling lube. Good idea."

"I am a genius," Sherlock replied smugly.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes and John rested their foreheads together, content and sated. It made him feel like bursting with happiness that Sherlock enjoyed cuddling as much as he did. He hadn't thought that Sherlock would. He was always wound up like a spring, ready to bounce off at any moment. But he went quiet and still when he was in John's arms, tangling himself around John and refusing to move, like a big cat.

"We should get cleaned up," John said, after a long while. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sunlight filtering in the window told him they still had a chunk of the day left.

"Mmpf," Sherlock said, and tightened his hold on John.

"Or we could stay here," John relented, and trailed his fingers up Sherlock's spine.

Sherlock hummed, a soft, pleased noise.

"I love you," John said in a hushed whisper, brushing a kiss over his brow.

Sherlock's hand came up, and his fingertips tentatively stuttered against John's shoulder in a familiar rhythm, tapping out a message in Morse code.

_I love you._


	3. Summer of 69ing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John try a new position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the last chapter for this particular fic, but don't worry. Sherlock and John are still experimenting on kinky things. We're going to try something more adventurous next time.  
> Not that 69ing isn't awesome too.

It was early morning and John was making a cup of tea. Sherlock was lying supine on the couch in his thinking pose, silent and making so little movement that John had checked to make sure he was actually breathing. He got out two cups, knowing that Sherlock would want one if he awoke.

He was stirring sugar into the cups when a warm weight settled along the length of his back. Sherlock twined both arms around John and rested the sharp point of his chin on John's shoulder.

"Hello, you," John said, nudging their heads together. "I made tea."

Sherlock hummed into his hair and didn't let go. John sighed and settled back against Sherlock. He was warm and rumpled and smelled of laundry soap and expensive shampoo.

"Do we have a case on?" John asked.

Sherlock uncoiled himself and took one of the cups.

"Not yet," Sherlock said. "I am ever hopeful that Lestrade will come through for us."

"Until that happens, I'll make us some toast," John said.

"Ate yesterday," Sherlock protested with a huff.

"You'll need the energy if... we get a case," John told him, grinning.

Sherlock flushed slightly and hastily took a sip of tea. John smiled, delighted at the reactions he could elicit from Sherlock. 

"Do you have... plans for later?" Sherlock asked, flush darkening.

Of late, Sherlock had not only become quite good at giving oral sex, but had discovered that he quite enjoyed being on the receiving end as well. Any mention at all of the possibility of sex had Sherlock all excited with anticipation and embarrassment. Why Sherlock was still self-conscious about enjoying sexual pleasure was beyond John, but it was endearing to watch him flush up like that.

"Oh, I have many plans," John said, raking his eyes up and down Sherlock's form.

Sherlock flushed, but preened under John's gaze, showing off the long arch of his neck and the way his shirt fit over his shoulders. 

The text alert on Sherlock's phone went off, and Sherlock dove for it, seduction forgotten. John smiled as he watched Sherlock rapidly text back and waited.

"An abduction case, John!" Sherlock exclaimed, eyes gleaming.

"Don't look so excited, it's _indecent_ ," John said, arching an eyebrow.

Sherlock barely twitched at John's words, practically thrumming with the excitement of a new case. He rushed toward the door, toast and tea forgotten, stopping only to get his coat on. John sighed and drained the last bit of his tea and followed. It wasn't as if he didn't live for these moments, too.

OOooOO

"Sherlock!" John yelled, and Sherlock barely dodged the wild swing of a crowbar at his head.

John and the kidnapped teenage girl were almost at the exit of the warehouse where they'd been keeping her, but one of the kidnappers was between Sherlock and the way out. John couldn't just abandon the girl, not when he was the only one between them with a weapon. He couldn't get a clear shot, not without being worried about hitting Sherlock.

"Go, John, Lestrade is on his way," Sherlock shouted, dodging again.

The girl started running towards the exit without John, forcing John to make the decision to either follow her or stay with Sherlock. With a cut off growl of anger, John spun around and followed the girl, who was quite fast and almost out of sight ahead of him.

The girl rounded a corner and screamed.

John put on a burst of speed and almost ran into the girl as she doubled back. Another of her kidnappers rounded the corner on her heels, and John didn't have any time to take aim or even shoot. Instead, he smashed the thug in the face with the gun. When he staggered backward, John kicked him square in the chest and he went down hard, knife clattering to the ground as he fell.

"Around him," John instructed, and the girl took off again. 

Halfway there, they ran into Lestrade and Donovan, and John immediately turned back.

"Sherlock's in trouble," he said, leaving the rescued girl with them.

Lestrade came with him while Donovan and the girl headed out. John skidded around the bend with the momentum of running so fast and his blood ran cold at the sight before him.

Somehow, the man had managed to pin Sherlock to the wall and was trying to choke him with the crowbar. Without a second thought, John raised his gun and levelled it at the man's calf. He took a moment to aim and fired.

The thug screamed and dropped to the floor. Sherlock staggered away from him and John got in front of him, between Sherlock and his attacker. He was completely prepared to put another bullet in him, but Lestrade was on it.

In another moment, the scene was swarming with officers and medical personnel. Sherlock leaned against the wall and panted in deep breaths. John put away his gun and went to see to him.

There was a bruise across Sherlock's throat, and John asked, "Can you speak?" in concern that more damage than he'd thought had been done.

"I'm fine," Sherlock said hoarsely. "I managed to hold him off for long enough that you could shoot him."

"But what if I hadn't come back in time?" John asked. 

"I knew Lestrade was coming," Sherlock gasped. "Text."

John waited until Sherlock had gotten his breath back and then they made their way back out the front. There was an ambulance at the scene, and the girl was sitting on the back wrapped in a shock blanket. One of the paramedics wanted to look at Sherlock, but Sherlock impatiently waved her off. Lestrade was approaching them and Sherlock waved him off as well.

"Fine, just a bit bruised is all," he said roughly. "I'll give you your statement later, Lestrade."

"Home?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, and they walked down to a main road so that they could flag a taxi. Sherlock was restless on the way home, shifting in his seat and tapping his fingers on his thighs. John felt edgy as well, sitting rigidly in his seat, heart still racing with the adrenaline. 

As soon as they were through the door at Baker St, up the stairs and in their own flat, John had Sherlock shoved up against the door. He captured Sherlock's mouth hard and desperate. Sherlock made a sound in his throat and pressed back, attacking John's lips with his own.

Sherlock bucked up against him, shamelessly rubbing his rapidly filling erection against John's hip, hands buried in John's short hair and clutching at his skull, dragging him into the kiss and positioning their heads so that he could get deeper, and more, and wetter.

John grabbed Sherlock's hips and pulled them together, grinding against him.

It wasn't even close to enough, and suddenly John just wanted Sherlock's skin against his mouth. He dropped to his knees, not caring that he jarred them with how fast he'd gone down. Frantically, he unbuckled Sherlock's belt, fumbled with his button and flies and dragged everything down around Sherlock's knees.

Sherlock's cock was already flushed and thick, and John didn't wait, just took him into his mouth with a barely contained moan. Sherlock's head banged against the door, and his fingers clutched at John's hair.

"Oh!" Sherlock gasped, hips pushing up and cock deep in John's mouth. "I – I wanted to do this to _you_."

John's cock throbbed at the words, and suddenly he didn't know what he wanted more, to have Sherlock's cock as deeply down his throat as he could manage, or if he wanted Sherlock's wet mouth swallowing around him.

"Both," he finally gasped, struggling to his feet. "Come on, bed, _now_."

It was a hard struggle to get to Sherlock's room, what with Sherlock's trousers around his ankles and John getting distracted by all that smooth skin that he could get his hands on, but they managed, kissing with a desperation that bordered on savage.

"Trousers off," John said, throwing his own clothes off as quickly as he could, stumbling as he tried to get his shoes off at the same time as his trousers.

Flushed and aroused, Sherlock didn't even unbutton his shirt, just got it open enough that he could drag it off over his head.

In a moment, they were both naked, and John pulled Sherlock's nude form against him, revelling in the feeling of their bare skin pressed together. That was much better. Sherlock's hard cock was trapped against his belly, and as it dragged across his stomach, he felt a line of slickness as Sherlock leaked. John moaned. He wanted to taste that, to have Sherlock leak that tiny bit and to lick at it, to have that musky bitterness against his tongue.

He tipped Sherlock back onto his bed and climbed on top of him, kissing his wetly for another moment. This man's mouth was made for it, so pliant and yielding. He could get in so deep, and the sounds Sherlock made when he did were just _sinful_.

Finally, he pulled away and crawled back down Sherlock's body, too desperate to have Sherlock's cock in his mouth to stop on the way to kiss his chest and stomach like he usually did. As much as he loved mapping out the freckles on his chest and following the little line of hair on Sherlock's flat stomach to his prize, right now, he just wanted that flushed red head against his mouth.

Sherlock sobbed and scrabbled at John's shoulders as John pulled back on Sherlock's foreskin to expose the glans, slick and glossy with precome.

"Oh, god, Sherlock," John said and licked at it, pressing at the slit where the flavour was strongest.

"Oh, _oh_ , John, _fuck_!" Sherlock gasped, chest heaving and thighs spreading.

The hips beneath his hands shuddered as Sherlock gave himself over to desire, making little moans and jerks of his hips. The sight of Sherlock flushed and aroused, begging for John to pleasure him made John's groin throb anew.

Oh, right. The entire reason he'd gotten them into the bed was for a specific reason.

He pulled back and Sherlock moaned brokenly.

"Sherlock, did you want to put your mouth on me?" John asked in a voice husky with desire.

Sherlock nodded and looked at John pleadingly. 

John maneuvered himself around so that his thighs were bracketing Sherlock's head and his own face was still level with Sherlock's erection, although it was from a different perspective. He'd never tried this position on someone with a cock before.

Sherlock nuzzled happily into John's groin, his nose fitting into the crease of John's thigh even better from this angle. John hummed and carefully fit his mouth around Sherlock's erection. It felt a bit odd, having the head of Sherlock's cock against his tongue, but he could feel along the ridge and lap at it.

Sherlock made a strained huffing sound and squirmed slightly, not wanting to dislodge John's mouth. John felt Sherlock's fingers bracing John's hips and then a tentative tongue lapped at his cock. John moaned around his mouthful of Sherlock's erection and sucked at it eagerly.

There was a push and pull rhythm to this, with John bobbing along the length of Sherlock's slick shaft and the next moment panting as Sherlock's tongue found a sensitive spot on his own cock. It was slower and less coordinated, with Sherlock distracting John from pleasuring him with the feeling of his wet mouth and clever tongue.

John felt the warning tug of his gut tightening and gasped, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock ignored him, tightening his hold on John's hips and dipping so far down that John could feel the warm breath from Sherlock's nose coming in bursts as he panted around John's cock. John lapped at Sherlock's frenulum almost on automatic, more concentrated on not accidentally gagging Sherlock with his semi-aborted thrusts.

There was a swelling feeling of pleasure, and then it washed over him, wet heat seeping into his very being. He moaned around his mouthful, clutching at Sherlock's arse and digging his fingers in. His hips jerked, and Sherlock held him still, lapping at John's cock as he spilled all over the place and smeared ejaculate all over his mouth.

Panting and shivering, John renewed his effort, sucking at Sherlock's cock and enjoying the hot, heavy feeling of it in his mouth. A few moments later, Sherlock whined and squirmed, unable to control his movements. John sucked hard one last time, and Sherlock's release flooded his mouth. John swallowed eagerly, licking his lips once Sherlock had finished.

They both lay there for several moments, coming down off their adrenaline high and the sleepy feeling that came with orgasm. John reached out and stroked the jut of Sherlock's hip happily, surrounded by the heavy scent of sex and sweat.

"We didn't use lube that time," Sherlock mumbled.

John rolled over and repositioned himself so he and Sherlock were facing each other on the bed. He reached out and ran his fingers through Sherlock's sweat-soaked curls and sighed.

"Did you want to use lube next time?" John asked.

"Well, it's good to sometimes not use lube," Sherlock said, eyes narrowed in thought. "It's part of the experiment."

John laughed, "Well, I'll admit that my reasons for foregoing lube were not at all because of experimental purposes."

Sherlock smiled and stretched, the expanse of his bare skin dappled with sunlight coming in through the window. "If you had stopped in order to find some lube, I would have been quite put out."

John giggled and traced Sherlock's back with his fingers. "Shower?"

"I'd better," Sherlock said. "I had no idea that we'd solved the case so quickly. We could still go to Angelo's for dinner, at this rate."

"I thought you ate yesterday," John teased him.

Sherlock blushed lightly and hid his face against John's chest. "I like going to dinner with you," he mumbled shyly.

John leaned down and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "Come on, let's get up."

Sherlock groaned, but sat up, allowing John to tow him to the bathroom behind him.

It was new, this. Sherlock had slowly gotten used to the idea of John seeing him naked for sexual reasons, but had been more reticent when it came to ordinary things, like getting dressed in the morning or bathing.

"It's more intimate," Sherlock had tried to explain, the first time he'd let John into the shower with him.

Maybe Sherlock had a point. It was easy for things to revolve around sex, at least for John. Not only that, but as a soldier and a doctor, his own body shyness was non-existent. It wasn't really a big deal for him, not this late in life.

But for Sherlock, giving this part of himself over to John was important. As for John, there was a small section of his brain that was thrilled that he was the only one that got to see Sherlock like this. 

Not just in the throes of passion, but like right now, when Sherlock was turning the shower on, a towel wrapped securely around his hips, blushing as he let the towel drop and climbed in. John had no idea why, but the fact that Sherlock found it necessary to cover himself up while getting ready for a shower when John had just had him spread out naked on the bed was ridiculously charming.

John was still naked and heedless of his nudity. Sometimes he caught Sherlock looking at him in the shower, and Sherlock would always blush and look away.

"You're allowed to look, Sherlock," John said, smiling gently. "I'm yours to examine."

Sherlock had yet to put him under the same scrutiny as his lab specimens, but John was just waiting for the day that he was confident enough to make him stay still so that he could map out every last bit of John's skin.

John climbed into the shower after him and admired the appeal of Sherlock wet and naked, dark hair flat against his skull.

"Here, let me," John said, taking Sherlock's silly designer shampoo and lathering his own hands up with it.

Sherlock dipped his head down and closed his eyes, leaning into John's massaging fingers and making a noise not unlike a purr. John grinned and kneaded the shampoo into a froth, fingers lingering behind Sherlock's ears and at the nape of his neck. Sherlock made a small noise and arched his neck.

Once John rinsed all the shampoo out, Sherlock did John's hair, although with John's cropped locks, it wasn't nearly as fun.

In John's earlier years, a post-sex shower could turn into round two, but nowadays, it was mere wishful thinking. Even gliding soap-slick hands all over Sherlock's glorious body could no longer provoke the same response. Besides, this wasn't about sex, as Sherlock said. It was intimacy.

John dried off Sherlock's hair for him, gently squeezing the water out of his thick hair. He liked taking care of Sherlock like this. Sherlock didn't _let_ anyone else take care of him. He was perfectly able to make his own way in the world, but it was his choice to allow John this close.

Clean and dry, Sherlock was soon once again encased in an impeccable suit. John's hair was still a little damp, because for John, it didn't really matter how it dried.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked as soon as John appeared in the sitting room.

John grinned. "Starving. It's a date then?"

That seemed to bring Sherlock up short. "Is it a date?"

"If you'd like," John said. "Come on."

John took Sherlock's hand and as they made their way down the stairs and out the front door, Sherlock asked, "Is this date going to be very different than any other night out at Angelo's?"

John thought about it and then shrugged, "Probably not. You'll deduce people, I'll laugh and call you brilliant and we may end up chasing a murderer. Nothing unusual there."

Sherlock mused on this as they walked up the street, absentmindedly tapping out partial phrases in Morse code on the back of John's hand.

"John?" Sherlock asked, the tapping coming to an abrupt end. "If this is a date, and it's the same as every other night we've been out to dinner... how long have we been dating?"

John laughed and shook his head. Everyone else had been right all along, it appeared.

"Sherlock," he said. "When you put it that way, it looks as if we've been dating since the very start."

Sherlock nodded and accepted this as fact.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"This means you've missed our anniversary for five years running."

John laughed again, stopped Sherlock and leaned up to kiss him.

"I'll make it up to you. Promise."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://testosterone-tea.tumblr.com)


End file.
